Click on book cover to be directed to excerpt for When One Door Closes

What reviewer's are saying about When One Door Closes:

"Have you ever believed in love at first sight, well if you didn't you will after you read this book."- Patricia Statham"This story hooked me right from the start with many memorable, exhilarating characters who warmed my heart and made me laugh and smile. Yes, love is a many splendid thing, and Author Sandy Wolters knows how to write about it."- Nancy of Utah"The book made me laugh, made me mad, made me feel the pain of the characters at times, that kinda adds up to a good book that is well written."- Douglas Meeks"If you think this story is a fairy tale where boy meets girl they fall in love and live happily ever after, are you ever wrong. Ms. Wolters has a story to tell and does it well, giving the reader the chapters in different POV’s so we know what each character is thinking. She has brought a romance with love, humor and trials along the way in a quiet voice of her own. Ms. Wolters writes in an easy manner and I love her pace for this story."- Gloria Lakritz, Sr Reviewer and Review Chair for the Paranormal Romance Guild"Take these three people, combine them with one nasty, good for nothing, succubus of a husband, rabid fans, a no nonsense housekeeper and a big mushy dog and you have the makings for a delightful way to spend a lazy day enjoying yourself with a good story."- Penelope Adams, Member of the Paranormal Romance Guild Review Team

Other books by award winning author Sandy Wolters:

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Sandy's SpotlightNew ReleaseVacation Is MurderbyCarolyn Arnold

Overview: There's only so much relaxation two former detectives can handle—even if they're on their honeymoon. With their recent fall into money, Sean and Sara McKinley should be living it up, enjoying the sun and beaches of Cancun. But heading into their third week they've had just about enough lying around. When the husband of a couple they've befriended is kidnapped and held for ransom, it has the McKinleys putting their experience to use. As they set out in the unfamiliar landscape of paradise, the investigation will have them risking their lives to stop a killer.Excerpt from Chapter 8: Honeymoon Ransom Sara pressed her body against his and kissed him, her passion quickly bursting into flame. She savored the taste of him, the touch of his tongue against hers, and rode the quiver of carnal hunger that needed satisfying. Now. The phone rang. “Don’t.” Her word carried on an exhale. “What if—” She went after him with more fervor, the need for him blooming within her. He put a hand to her cheek and tapped a few quick kisses to her lips. “I’m sorry, darling, but it could be important.” She let out a sigh and rolled to her back. Sean reached for the receiver. “Mr. McKinley.” Sara could hear the caller was a woman and that she was excited. She sat up, tucking her legs beneath her. “Who is—” Sean held up a finger and spoke into the phone. “We’ll be right there.” “Sean?” Her heart was racing. She felt the energy in the room—something terrible had happened. Sean took her hand. “That was Catherine. Earl’s missing.” Her undying urge to make love to her husband muted to the background. “We better get going.” ***** Catherine paced the floor of her room. Her hand snapped to her mouth and then lowered. “He’s nowhere to be found. I’ve been all over the resort. I’ve called his cell phone.” “Did you call the police?” Sara guided her back to the sofa. “What are they going to do?” “Sara,” Sean said. “Yes, dear.” “Why don’t you see if you can round up some tea for Mrs. Spencer?” Sara patted Catherine’s knee and got on the phone. She cupped the mouthpiece. “They don’t typically do this, Sean.” “Tell them I’ll pay whatever they like.” She spoke to the resort employee. “Yes, I know it’s an all-inclusive resort. Please, just bring up some tea…we will pay cash. Yes, gracias.” Sara sat beside Catherine again. “You two are the sweetest people.” Catherine reached for Sara’s hand. “Please, Catherine, tell us everything that happened. When did you last see him?” “Last night. You two went on your way. We stayed in the lobby and had a few more drinks.” “Then what?” Catherine shared looks between them. “You were cops before, weren’t you? That was your day job? Earl said that’s what he thought.” Sara glanced at Sean. He nodded, his protective guard chipping away. “Yes, we were. We’d like to help, but you should call the police.” Catherine cast a deadpan stare in his direction. “You are both telling me to do that, but until we know that something truly happened to him, aren’t we acting prematurely? It can’t be easy reporting things like that down here, and I don’t know the language very well.” The phone rang and Sean answered, prepared to argue with the front desk over tea. Instead, the caller had a different message. Sean pointed to the receiver and both women went quiet. He spoke to the caller, but his eyes were on Catherine. “She is, but you will speak to me…who I am doesn’t matter. What is your message?” Sean was certain his face was pale, mirroring that of the women. “Sean?” Sara went over to him. “What is it?” He replaced the receiver to the cradle. “They used a voice distorter, so I can’t tell if it’s a man or woman.” He heard defeat mark his words. “But you have your proof, Mrs. Spencer. Someone has Earl.” “Oh my God.” Catherine let out a wail and bent over in sobbing convulsions. “What do they want, Sean?” Sara asked. “They requested fifty thousand dollars by Thursday. They’ll give more details then.” “Thursday? That’s tomorrow.” Catherine looked up. “Or? There’s always an or.” Sean latched eyes with Sara. Sara squeezed Catherine’s shoulder. “In situations like this it’s best we keep a level head. They’ve made their demand and now we just have to meet it. We’ll help get your husband back.”Book links:Amazon US - http://ow.ly/vPIiXAmazon UK - http://ow.ly/vPIm5Print - http://ow.ly/vPIkdApple - http://ow.ly/vPIfcBarnes & Noble - http://ow.ly/vPHGgKobo - http://ow.ly/vPIhdAuthor links:Website • Blog • Twitter • Facebook • Linkedin • Google +

Sandy's SpotlightThe Wilde OneBook 2 in the Old Town Country Romance seriesbySavannah Young

Title: The Wilde One Series and Book # in Series: Old Town Country Romance series Book Two Stand Alone if part of a series? Series but can stand aloneFOUR WILDE BROTHERS...ONE WILDE COUNTRY BAND

Tucker Wilde joined the United States Army right out of high school and was injured in Iraq. But more than just his leg was shattered in the Middle East. The war also crushed his spirit and damaged his soul. When a strange couple arrives at his family’s bar, Haymakers, Tucker can see signs of mental and emotional abuse and is immediately drawn to the lovely but fragile girl seated at his bar.

Gracie Parker has been a victim of abuse her entire life. When her boyfriend, Dex, beats her in the parking lot of Haymakers and abandons her, it’s almost too much for the nineteen-year-old to bear. That is until Tucker appears like a warrior knight from the darkness to save her.

Tucker and Gracie are two broken people who are immediately drawn together. But their relationship and even their very lives are threatened by Dex who will stop at nothing to get Gracie back.

If you like your trucks loud, your beer cold and your men hot...you'll love THE WILDE ONE.

Excerpt:

One Tucker “You look different,” Savage says, then downs the last of his pint of ale. “Different how?” I prod even though I have an idea what he’s going to say. I look more normal. Like I fit into society rather than looking like an outcast. Savage shrugs. He’s never been a person of many words. We’re like two peas in a pod that way. Even though he rarely says very much, with just one sideways glance Savage can have the biggest and meanest guys on the planet shaking in their cowboy boots. People say that about me too. “Do you want another?” I ask, even though I can guess his response. Savage always orders two pints and drinks them at the far corner of the bar. There are worse ways of coping with the past than drinking a few beers every night before he goes home to an empty apartment. I should know. I’m a master of poor coping skills. “Hit me,” Savage says. I pour him another pint and take away the empty. “You look good.” I’m surprised by the compliment. I’d never use the word good to describe anything about me. But I do look better than I have since I got back from Iraq. “Drink your beer,” I tell him because I’m not in the mood to explain what’s been going on in my life. Savage was in Iraq about the same time I was and he’s the closest thing I’ve got to a friend. I’m not one for relationships. Life is too short and relationships are too painful. When you get close to someone, you usually just end up getting hurt. But like me, Savage isn’t the type of guy who gets too close to people. The most obvious reason is the way he looks: he’s big and scary. Also just like me. Savage and I lift weights together, and in a fight it would be a close match. Not that either of us would ever start a fight but we would definitely end one if we had to. It’s a weeknight and the bar is almost deserted except for a few of the regulars. That’s why I’m surprised when I see a couple I don’t recognize walk in and look around. The guy’s wearing all leather and carrying two helmets, so he’s obviously a biker. He looks about my height, six feet two inches and he’s big. The girl looks tiny standing next to him. She’s the definition of the word waif. She looks like a strong wind could pick her up and blow her away. Not a good thing in Old Town where it’s windy most of the time. The most interesting thing about her, though, is her coloring. I’ve never seen someone so fair in my life. I’m the only blond in my family but I’m not even close to this girl. Her long hair is so light it’s practically white. And her skin is the color of milk. She looks like a princess who just stepped out of a fairytale, as corny as that sounds. I can’t help but notice that she doesn’t look like she wants to be here. Or maybe she doesn’t want to be with the guy. It’s hard to tell. But she doesn’t look happy. If anything, she looks scared. As the couple steps closer to the bar, I can see the girl is shaking. I’m not sure whether she’s shaking because she’s scared, or because it’s January and it’s freezing outside and she’s wearing a tiny spring jacket that barely fits. It almost looks like a jacket for a kid it’s so small on her. Not that she’s much bigger than a kid herself. What kind of a jerk wears a thick leather jacket while he lets his girl freeze? I’m really not liking this guy at all. And when I see him grab her by the elbow, so roughly she almost comes off the floor, I can feel every hair on my body stand at attention. Is it possible to hate a guy I don’t even know?

Hired as a nanny for her cousinâs children, Anne Tearle finds security and a loving family. The children are a dream, but London society is a world of its own, one where a displaced farm girl has no business being. But, wealthy rake, Gavin MacKay, helps her to see associating with the upper class might not be as horrid as she first assumed.

Like all things worthwhile, love comes at a price, and the cost soon bestows more anguish than joy. Lost, but not undone, Anne must find the courage to begin life anew, or succumb to sorrow's unrelenting waves of grief.

Purchase Links:Will be forwarded between April 18th & 20th. Please watch for the bulk email from marketing@roanepublishingcom!

Chapter 1 / Excerpt 1

With a loud grind and clanking, the train came to rest at Kingâs Cross Station. The engine car let out a hiss like the sigh that escaped my lips every night when I laid on my pallet after a long dayâs work.

Pressing my face to the window, I stared in amazement at the mass of moving people. When boarding the train in Birmingham, excitement kept me from giving the well-to-do folks more than a mere glance, but I sat captivated as my fellow passengers disembarked around me.

Lavish bonnets and bright-coloured dresses of silky material made me ashamed of the threadbare gingham frock and tattered straw hat I wore.

Aunt Martha and Mary always tried to keep up with the latest fashions by ripping and sewing old dressesâgarments beyond repair became an extra flounce or two, and the nicer threads unwoven and made into lace collars or cuffs. I hadnât ever been allowed time for such frivolous activities, so I made myself content with proper skirt length and suitable patches for worn elbows.

Content, until I gazed upon the ladies of London in all their finery. Aunt Martha would say those folks sinned by squandering their money in such a way.

For about the tenth time, I imagined my auntâs kitchen minus its scullery maid and target for hurled objects. I choked back a giggle for what must have been the fifth time that morning. My days of being a slave were over, for I had been offered employment.

Fingers trembling, I stood and wrapped my thin shawl tight around my shoulders, clutched my bundle closer, and walked the trainâs narrow aisle. I stepped onto the platform and peered around the sea of faces for Joanna Telford.

I had never met my cousin from London. Until a few weeks earlier, I wasnât even aware I hadfamily beyond Uncle Edward and Aunt Martha. Mrs. Telford wrote to tell me she and her husband were in need of a nanny and governess for their two young sons, and being the merciful guardian he was, Uncle Edward decided to send me away from his wife.

Without her knowing.

Another smile lifted my lips, and I shifted on my feet, moving my tied bundle from one hand to the other. I grimaced as a whiff of body odour rose. Aunt Martha allowed me to bathe once a week, which would have been on the morrow, but asking to do so early certainly would have aroused suspicion. Sneaking away from her house before sunrise as I did would never have occurred with success.

No one spared the poor farm girl a second glance, and insides buzzing like a honey bee, I stood unmoving, a white-knuckled grip on my worldly possessions.

Minutes moved passed slower than a lazy stream and the surrounding crowd began to disperse. I waited. Despair crept closer with every passing heartbeat.

A stooped man in black livery made eye contact with me, and a pleasant smile lit his face as he started my way.

âMiss Tearle?â His voice rasped like a rusty barn door hinge.

âYes. I am Anne Tearle.â I was grateful to my aunt for one thing. My accent matched almost perfectly with those buzzing around me. Aunt Martha's hatred of the Black Country we lived in and the cane across the back of my legs every time I slipped into the bouncing regional lilt had eradicated all but the barest traces of it.

The elderly gentleman removed his hat, tucked it under one arm, and dipped his head. "Welcome to London, missy.â His smile widened and the skin around his watery blue eyes crinkled. âIâm the Telfordsâ coachman, Emanuel. The missus has sent me to collect you.â

~~~oOo~~~

About Terri Rochenski

Terri started writing stories in the 8th grade, when a little gnome whispered in her brain. Gundiâs Great Adventure never hit the best seller list, but it started a long love affair with storytelling.

Today she enjoys an escape to Middle Earth during the rare âmeâ moments her three young children allow. When not playing toys, picking them back up, or kissing boo-boos, she can be found sprawled on the couch with a book or pencil in hand, and toothpicks propping her eyelids open.

Open only to those who can legally enter, receive and use an Amazon.com Gift Code. No purchase necessary, but you must be 18 or older to enter. The winner will be chosen by rafflecopter, and announced on the widget. Winner well be notified by emailed and have 48 hours to respond or a new winner will be chosen. The number of entries received determines the odds of winning. Giveaway was organized by Roane Publishing's marketing department.

Sandy's SpotlightGuest PostbySuz deMello

What’s a romance? You may think you know, but… The standard definition of a romance has been undergoing some change lately, but the definition of romance has always been changing. Right now, most of us see a romance as a love story between a man and a woman that contains a happy ending, with the heroine going off with Mr. Right. But that wasn’t always the case. Centuries ago, people married for reasons other than love. They married for money, status or property, and love was something found outside marriage. Romeo and Juliet is a pretty famous romance, but it doesn’t have a happy ending, unless your idea of a good HEA is uniting in the afterlife. Other forms of art reflected the belief that love was found outside marriage. Medieval troubadours traveled from castle to castle and sang about the joys of courtly love and romantic love. Art often depicted the clash between marriage and love, such as Tintoretto’s Venus and Mars Surprised by Vulcan (1545).When did romance change, and why?Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded (1740) by Samuel Richardson, is often mentioned as the first romance novel. The main point, however, was not that the title character had found love but that her persistent rejections of the so-called hero’s attentions finally got her the prize: marriage. A less moralistic novel, and one that’s often cited as the best of the genre, is Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice (1813). Despite its somewhat archaic style, it’s one of the most popular novels in English Literature, and for very good reasons. It doesn’t preach the way Pamela does, but instead reflects the real concerns young women had during the Regency: marrying well and marrying for love, or at least respect. Although arranged marriages for the purpose of uniting property or increasing wealth were still a custom in our culture, the desirability of gaining a life with a partner founded on love rather than money was taking hold, and is reflected in the literature of the time. Each era has produced literature that’s reflective of its time, and romance novels reflect their eras, too. As the love ideal took hold, more romances were written that reflect the joy of love rather than its discouraging end, and cautionary tales took back seat to entertainment. As time went on, and as mores altered, romances became steadily more erotic. The Flame and the Flower (1972) by Kathleen Woodiwiss is viewed as the first modern romance novel, even though it’s a sequel to Petals on the River. Both are quite racy compared to, say, Austen, and reflect changed attitudes regarding sex before marriage.Our century Perhaps the greatest changes have occurred in the last few years. First came chick lit, in which the heroine’s goal is not finding Mr. Right but hooking up with Mr. Right Now. Then writers of digital romance broke the hetero barrier and started writing LGBT romance, which doesn’t require the love story to be between a man and a woman. I’m reliably informed that the biggest consumers of M/M romance aren’t gay guys but hetero females. Go figure!About Suz deMello Best-selling, award-winning author Suz deMello has written seventeen novels, plus several short stories and non-fiction articles. She writes in numerous genres including romance, mystery, paranormal, historical, contemporary comedy and erotica. She’s a freelance editor who’s worked for Total-E-Bound, Ai Press, Liquid Silver Books and Etopia Press. She also takes on private clients. Her books have been favorably reviewed in PW, Kirkus and Booklist, attained the finals of the RITA and hit several bestseller lists. A former trial attorney, she resides in northern California. Her passion is world travel, and she’s left the US over a dozen times, including stints working overseas for many months. Right now, she's working on her next manuscript and planning her next trip. Her blog is at http://www.fearlessfastpacedfiction.com. Find her reading picks @ReadThis4fun on Twitter, and befriend her on Facebook (http://www.facebook.com/SueSwift ). Her sites are at http://www.sue-swift.com and http://www.suzdemello.com.

Rakes in Tartan Set in 1816, my book reflects the mores and customs of the Regency. Heirs to their clans’ lairdships, Andrew MacReiver and Tor Kilburn must find suitable brides. As did many noblemen of the time, they journeyed to London for the social season after attending Oxford. They hoped to find love, but not a Nordic fairy, a dragon and a vampire assassin. But, being a book written in the 21st century rather than the 19th, Rakes in Tartan ends happily. Here’s what some reviewers have said about the previous books in the Highland Vampires series--These are customer reviews from Amazon.5 stars... A new author to add to my list of favorite authors June 20, 2012 By jmazeTemptation in Tartan is the first book I've read by Suz deMello. It won't be the last. The book is well written, easy to follow and easy to read… I would highly recommend the book and I hope that she plans another book to follow in this one’s stead. RE: Desire in Tartan:Five stars..."Engrossing... I was grabbed from the start of the book..."--S.J. Foulkes (Amazon.com)Five stars... "Super Read!!!... I enjoyed it from the beginning to the end. I couldn't put it down and read it in one day."--Becca (Amazon.com)Five stars..."Such a wonderful read!!!... Such a wonderful book... Love this series!"--Kimberly Jaksina (Amazon.com)Buy Rakes in Tartan here: http://www.ellorascave.com/rakes-in-tartan.html

Sandy's SpotlightWilde RidersBook 1 in the Old Town Country Romance seriesby Savannah Young

Title: Wilde Riders Series and Book # in Series: Old Town Country Romance series Book One Stand Alone if part of a series? Series but can stand aloneFOUR WILDE BROTHERS...ONE WILDE COUNTRY BAND

WILDE RIDERS is the first novel in a spicy new contemporary romance series about four sexy brothers, their small-town bar and their local country band. WILDE RIDERS can be read as a STAND ALONE NOVEL or as part of the SERIES.

Cooper Wilde spent his entire adolescence counting the days until he could escape rural northwest New Jersey. Now at 26, he can't believe he's coming back. But his late father's bar, Haymakers, is in financial trouble and his older brother, Jake, has asked for Cooper's help.

Riley Smith, 25, is fresh out of her Ivy League MBA program and wants to make an impression on her employer, H & C Bank. Her first solo assignment is a fraud investigation on a business loan they made to Haymakers.

Even though Old Town is less than 90 minutes from New York City, Riley feels like she's stepped into another world in this remote, one-bar town. Riley can't wait to do her business and get back to the city as quickly as her sports car will take her...until she meets Cooper Wilde. He's not like the other guys in this rural town and Riley feels inexplicably attracted to him.

If you like your trucks loud, your beer cold and your men hot...you'll love WILDE RIDERS.

Excerpt:

ONE Cooper The wind kicks up as I round the corner and enter the town square. Old Town came by its name honestly. The town never seems to change. The main street looks the same as it did when I was a kid, and probably not much different than when my parents were young, or even their parents. A few of the stores and restaurants have changed hands over the years but for the most part, the town looks like it’s been frozen in time. Why does it always seem so much windier in Old Town than anywhere else in New Jersey? It even feels windier here than lower Manhattan, which is a feat. The way the wind often howls around the financial district, you’d think it was haunted. I can’t believe I’m back in Old Town. When I got a job on Wall Street, I swore I’d never come back. The last time I set foot in Old Town was about six months ago, for my father’s funeral. Six months before that, it was for my mother’s. I told my brother, Jake, I’d only stay for two weeks tops. That’s every bit of vacation time I’ve earned to date. Then I’m going to back to Manhattan and back to my life in the city. The last thing I want is to be a hick from the sticks again. I’ve worked too hard to rid myself of that stigma. I’m never going to be that guy again. I’m an Ivy League graduate. I work on Wall Street. I have an apartment in lower Manhattan. I drive a BMW 6-Series convertible. And I’m well on my way to making my first million before I turn thirty, which is four years from now. I’m not a country kid anymore. And no matter what my brothers say, there’s no way in hell I’m ever going to be a Wilde Rider again. When I left home, I packed up my guitar and sealed away any musical aspirations I may have had right along with it. Being in a small town country band is fun when you’re a teenager but it doesn’t pay the bills and it certainly doesn’t pay for a Manhattan lifestyle. Not unless you’re really good, and really lucky…and the Wilde Riders were neither. I park my convertible on the street outside of Haymakers. It’s only eleven. The bar doesn’t open until noon. The only vehicle in the bar’s dirt lot is my brother Jake’s old Dodge Ram Pick Up. He’s been driving the thing since I left for college. I bet the vehicle has well over a hundred thousand miles on it. The way it looks, like it’s on its last legs, you’d think it had double that amount. Even though it’s late August, there’s a bit of a chill in the air. The wind feels wet, like it’s going to rain. I put the top up on my convertible just in case. It’s the first car I’ve ever owned that wasn’t a junker and I’m proud as hell of it. My stomach tightens as I approach the front door of the bar. The last time I was here was the night after we laid my father to rest. His final wish was for all the regulars to have a drink on the house in his honor. I made a promise to myself that was the last time I was ever going to set foot in the place. Yet here I am getting ready to walk back inside again. I made it clear to Jake that coming here to help him doesn’t mean I’m walking back into my old life. That’s a life that I’ve worked desperately to leave behind. But when Jake phoned, he sounded scared, which isn’t like him at all. He’s Mr. Carefree. Troubles slide off his back like syrup glides off pancakes. I’m here because Jake asked for my help. He said he might lose the bar, everything our dad ever worked for, if I didn’t give him a hand. Being the oldest, Jake followed in our dad’s footsteps. He was the gregarious one of the Wilde boys, so it only made sense that he’d take over and run the town’s one and only bar. Jake has always been Mr. Personality. He’s great with people. But from the little he told me on the phone, he’s apparently not as great with money. That’s where I come in. I guess having a degree in finance from Columbia and a job on Wall Street means that I’m like emergency services in a financial shit storm. I just hope it’s not too late to fix whatever mess Jake has found himself in. I inhale and let out a deep breath before I push open the large wooden doors. The first thing I see when I enter the bar are pink cowboy boots. They’re apparently attached to a female who is also wearing extremely tight black jeans. The rest of her body is hidden under a table. It looks like she’s trying to retrieve something. I clear my throat so she realizes she’s not alone. I hear a loud thump, followed by, “Oh, shit!” As she extricates herself from below the table, the young woman rubs the side of her head. It takes me a moment to realize that it’s Harley Davis. She looks a lot different than the little blond girl she was when I left home. She stops dead in her tracks when she realizes it’s me. She gulps. “Coop?” Harley has definitely grown up. She’s still thin but she’s not a tomboy anymore. She has curves in all the right places and full rack, which I’m having trouble keeping my eyes off of. “What are you doing here?” she asks, her blue eyes are filled with concern. “Is everything okay?” “Yeah,” I lie. “What are you doing here?” She laughs. “I work here now. Jake gave me a job.” “Aren’t you still in high school?” She rolls her eyes at me. “I graduated two years ago.” How is it possible that little Harley Davis, the girl who has had a self-proclaimed crush on me since she was twelve, is now an adult? “Cooper,” I hear my brother call from the other end of the bar. As I head over to him, I take a good look at the place. Some things are exactly the same as when dad ran the place. The old wooden bar that my dad liked to brag he built with his father hasn’t changed. And neither have the matching wooden bar stools. Even some of the liquor bottles behind the bar are dusty and don’t look like they’ve been touched in years. There are also brand new tables and chairs scattered throughout the place. And what looks like a semi-professional stage has been installed for whatever band decides to play on Friday and Saturday nights. Back in the days when I played with my brothers in the Wilde Riders we’d just move a few tables out of the way to set up our gear. This new performance area looks expensive. I put a hand out for Jake to shake but he pulls me in for a hug instead. I’ve seen my oldest brother twice in the last year—at our parents’ funerals. He refuses to set foot in the city and I refused to come back to Old Town, so it’s been kind of a stale mate. Jake is two years older than me but he still looks like my younger brother. Maybe it’s his boyish round face or the glint of mischief he always seems to have in his eyes. Or it could just be because he’s always been such an easy-going and carefree guy that the stress of life hasn’t managed to age him yet. Today Jake looks a lot less carefree than I’ve ever seen him. He’s got a few deep creases in his forehead that I’ve never noticed before. “Thanks for coming,” Jake says. “I know how you feel about being here.” I don’t think he has any idea how I feel about being here. He’s never left rural New Jersey—he’s never lived anywhere but Old Town. “So, what’s up?” I ask. I’m not much for small talk. I’d rather get down to business. He eyes Harley and then says quietly, “I think we should talk in my office.” I nod and we head toward the back of the place, near the kitchen area, into what used to be a storage closet. Jake has set up a small desk with a computer, monitor and printer. That’s about all that will fit in the cramped space. Jake sits on the edge of the desk and motions for me to take the chair. “I’d rather stand. It was a long drive out here.” Jake runs his fingers through his thick brown hair. It’s shaggy and looks like it hasn’t been trimmed in a while. “I really messed things up,” he says. Jake has never had a problem speaking his mind. Sometimes he may be a bit too blunt. “Can you be a little more specific?” He bites the inside of his cheek. It was a bad habit he had as a kid. Mom hated it and would tell him to quit doing it whenever she caught him. I thought he’d gotten over it years ago. “You know Mom always kept the books for Haymakers. I didn’t know how much Dad depended on her until she died. He had no idea how to handle any of the accounting for the business. I guess Mom tried to teach him about accounts payable and receivable and all that stuff but it just didn’t sink in. Plus, I think he was kind of in denial that she was actually dying. Anyway, things started to fall apart but he was too proud to ask for help. I inherited a mess that I’ve made even worse because I don’t know what I’m doing either.” I take in a deep breath. My mom died almost a year ago and my dad died six months ago. If the finances have been deteriorating for a year, things could potentially be in really bad shape. He opens the top drawer of the desk and pulls out a certified envelope. Anything sent certified mail usually isn’t good news. He hands me the letter. It’s from H & C Bank. “I thought Dad had the place paid off,” I say as I take the letter from Jake’s hand. “He took out a loan for some improvements. We needed a new roof and he put in new tables and the stage area.” “Why did he need a new stage?” I ask. I know I probably sound bitter but I don’t care. “Did you talk him into it?” My brother always had dreams of being a country singer. He’s got a great voice and a lot of musical talent but he never had the drive or ambition to make his dream a reality. Because Jake was the most like my dad, and his first born, my dad would have done anything to make Jake happy. “It wasn’t me,” Jake insists. I glare at him. “Okay, it wasn’t just me,” he admits. “Dad felt like he was losing business because of the competition. Some of the new places that have opened up recently have live bands every weekend. And not just bands like Wilde Riders—bands with CDs and deals with real record labels on actual tours.” “I didn’t see any new bars when I drove through town.” “Not in Old Town. In some of the other towns around the county. They’ve been drawing some big name groups. Dad felt like he needed to do something to attract a younger crowd.” “Are you still playing?” I ask. Jake shrugs. “Off and on. You know it’s never been the same without you. We keep trying to find a guitar player that’s even half as good as you and it still hasn’t happened. We lost another one last week.” “That’s too bad.” “Now that you’re back in town, maybe—” I cut Jake off. “I’m back in town to help you get this straightened out.” I hold up the letter. “I’m not back for any other reason. And I’m definitely not back to play with the Wilde Riders again.” “We sounded really good the last time we played.” “That was a onetime thing. I did it for Dad.” Jake throws up his hands. “Okay, I get it. You don’t want to be part of the band. I can respect that.” “And we’ve got bigger problems,” I say as I open the letter. My heart sinks when I read the contents. Things really are as bad as I imagined.

I'm so excited to share the news that one of my favorite reads by one of my favorite authors, Ashley Fontainne, is going to be made into a movie! See below for details and how you can help.Here's the 5 Star review I wrote for Number Seventy-Five in July, 2013:Book: Number Seventy-Five Author: Ashley Fontainne Genre: Thriller Length: Approximately 74 Pages

I had no idea what to expect when I picked up NUMBER SEVENTY-FIVE by ASHLEY FONTAINNE. I purposely did not read any blurbs, excerpts or reviews. I follow this policy with all authors that I want to read so I can get the story firsthand from their writing. I have, however, read Ms. Fontainne's suspense/thriller series Eviscerating the Snake and vowed to read everything she writes because it was just that good.

I was curious to see if Ms. Fontainne could write in such a gripping and heart-stopping way with a book that is only 74 pages long. Not many authors that are really good at writing full-length novels has what it takes to write a short story or novella. Let me put your fears to rest. NUMBER SEVENTY-FIVE by ASHLEY FONTAINNE did not disappoint in the least. Ms. Fontainne's writing in NUMBER SEVENTY-FIVE had me gasping for air and swearing out loud as I read it. LOVED IT!

If you enjoy crime drama, suspense, thrillers, betrayal, vengeance, you're going to love this book. It's a quick read, but very fulfilling for the reader. This book is well written, the characters were developed nicely and the deception was remarkably twisted. I was left wanting nothing (besides another Ashley Fontainne book) after reading this story. Pick it up!

More about the movie!

Number Seventy-Five is a 74 page novella that won the BRONZE medal in the 2013 Readers' Favorite International Book Awards (Fiction/suspense) and was a semi-finalist in the 2013 Kindle Book Review for best book (Fiction/suspense). Not bad at all for a short book! It was also the first book Ashley listed on www.acx.com to have turned into an audio book. That is when everything changed for her. Sabrina Stewart narrated the audio version (http://www.amazon.com/Number-Seventy-Five/dp/B00FW3EGC8/ref=tmm_aud_title_0) and just so happens to be an actress. In Hollywood. She contacted Ashley once the audio version was live and said she loved the intensity of the story and thought it would make a great film. Less than three months later--the cast, crew and production was on board for Number Seventy-Five: The Movie. Like Ashley's books, the feature film is an Indie project. The first $10,000 will go to the funds needed to shoot a 5-10 minute full trailer so the next phase in production can begin: attracting a major production company to back the film. Donations can be made by going to the funding site and starts at $1.00. There are great perks you will receive for each donation, such as: $5.00 - free ebook copy of the book Number Seventy-Five$10.00 - free ebook and a "Shout Out" on the website$20.00 - all of the above plus an audio version of Number Seventy-Five$35.00 - all of the above plus a signed poster by the cast and crew$50.00 - all of the above plus a signed paperback by yours Ashley Fontainne and more!I am honored to spread the word about this project. As a matter of fact, I'm going to hang the Number Seventy-Five movie poster that I get from donating to the project in my office for inspiration.To donate, simply click on the movie link box:

Click HERE to be directed to the movie website and take a look at the movie trailer teaser.Below is the purchase link to the book, but don't forget, you can get a free e-book copy of Number Seventy-Five if you donate!